Number 13
by Kime Tara
Summary: [A Zack POV] A black-cloaked man in Tifa's old house. His number is 13.


**Number 13**

By kimetara

One-shot

Disclaimer: ...  If I owned Final Fantasy VII, trust me, it would be slightly different...

          He's coming by to talk to me.  That blond, spiky-haired guy.

          The girl he's with, some well-endowed brunette, carefully pulls my hand from its black cloak.  She tells him I'm number 13.  13.  An unlucky number.  The guy nods and takes an ether from my inside pocket, putting it in a little bag the girl's wearing.

          Hey!  That was mine!  Give it back!

          That's what I thought I said.  That's what I wanted to say.  But all that comes out of my mouth is "Re...un...ion..."

          The guy – man, he looks familiar – doesn't even notice, and the girl gives me a sympathetic look, though I can barely see it through the hood over my face.  Even so, it pisses me off.

          But you know what pisses me off more?

          I can't do anything about it.

          I don't know why I'm here.  I can't even control this body; it goes where it wants and says what it likes.  I don't think I'm the only mind here, y'know, but I can't touch the one that really in charge.  I don't even know where I'm going, except I'm pulled there.  It's like there's a flame and I'm the moth.  Yeah.  At least the moth gets a fiery death.

          Me?  I'm walking – okay, staggering – around in a black cloak, talking some shit about a Reunion and making sure my face stays hidden.  And I'm in some person's house.  I get the feeling I oughta know who, or at least know what town I'm in, but I can't quite reach it.

          It's like trying to touch a fog.  You can see it in the distance, but no matter how far you run towards it you never get there.  It always moves away from you.

          Now I'm talking some metaphorical crap.  What's _wrong_ with me?

          I'm supposed to be dead.

          Don't ask, I don't know where that came from.  The first clear memory I get, and it's that I'm supposed to be dead.  Woohoo, I'm thrilled now.  Although, tell the truth I prefer being dead than...whatever I currently am.  Prisoner in my own body.  How cliché.

          That girl's still there.  She's watching me.  She looks familiar too, but not as much as that guy...what is his name?  Damn.  He's important, for some reason.

          "I wish you could tell us what was going on."  Is she talking to me?  She sounds wistful.  Well guess what, I wish I could to.  I wish I knew what was going on.  I wish I could control my own fucking body.

          I don't think I used to cuss so much.

          "It's alright.  You can stay in my house as long as you need to."  Her house?  So, it's her house, huh?  Well, at least she's sincere.  Not that bad-looking either, although not as gorgeous as...as...damn!  It's gone again.

          She's moving away now.  No, wait!  I grab her wrist, and looks at me with surprise.  If I could show my eyes through this hood, I'd be pretty shocked too.  I did that.  _I_ did!  Not this other freak that's taken over my mind.

          But she's gotten over her surprise now, and she's watching me patiently.  I have to give her credit, she's not freaking out.  That's good.  I don't want her to leave.  I want her to keep talking.  The more she talks, the more I remember, and I want to remember.

          I don't want to fall back into nothing.  Nothing but screams, cries, and this damn constant yearning from...somewhere.  I don't even know what it wants so badly, but it never leaves me alone.

          What do I know?  I know I want to take control over my body.  I want to kick this other mind out.  I don't care if I end up dead like I'm supposed to be once it's gone; I hate this.

          My mouth moves, but no words come out.  Guess I haven't made that much progress yet.  So I just pull her towards me, a little.

          She must get the idea, because she sits down next to me.  She pities me.  I don't usually do pity, but right now, I'm thankful for anything that'll just get her to talk to me.

          "Cloud!  I'm going to hang around a bit down here, okay?" she yells up the stairs.

          "Alright Tifa!" is his reply.  Cloud.  His name is Cloud.  Where have I heard that before...and this is Tifa?  Familiar.  Clear as fog.

          "So," she's talking to me now, "I wonder what life's been like for you?  It's terrible, how you've been ruined by being one of Shinra's experiments..." she says softly.  That's it.  Keep talking.  "...but don't worry.  We'll get them.  They've messed up too many lives, and now they're finally going to see what it's like."  Her hand tightens into a fist, and I notice she's wearing gloves.  They look pretty vicious too, three inch long claws coming from the knuckles.

          Shinra.  Cloud.  Tifa.  Cloud.  Shinra.  Cloud.  Things are coming together.  Bits and pieces.  Cloud.  He made it alright.  At least I didn't die for no reason.  Cloud was the reason I died?

          "Aughh..." a moan comes out of my throat, and Tifa starts.

          "Oh!  Are you...okay?" she kneels next to me, then laughs.  But her laughter sounds sad and bitter.  "Of course, you can't talk to me, can you?  All you know about is Sephiroth and the Reunion, whatever that is.  Sephiroth...we'll get him too," she promises fiercely.

          "Seph...i...roth?"  Sephiroth.  Yes.  The Reunion with Sephiroth.  Ah-hah!  Finally, I managed to find a little about this other thing controlling me.

          Sephiroth.  The idol of all SOLDIERS.  I wanted to be like Sephiroth, until he went crazy.

          Huh?

          I remember...a big bonfire...

          ...screams...

          Fire...wasn't this house burned down?

          I followed Sephiroth up to the Nibel Reactor, and got my butt kicked.  But that wasn't why I died.  I woke up in a glass tube filled with something...

          "C'mon Tifa."  Cloud had come downstairs.  "Time to go.  Unless you want to look around some more...?" he adds hesitantly.

          Yes!  More time, please.  I'm so close...so damn close!  Let me out.  Shinra, I worked for them, as something.  One of those SOLDIER guys.  Sephiroth went insane and torched this place.  Nibelheim, I think?  This town is Cloud's hometown.  We were war buddies.  Cloud...he was in the tube next to me when I woke up.  He hadn't reacted well to the Mako, even though it was his idea to escape.  I ended up dragging him out of here.

          Why had I died?

          Who _am_ I?

          If I can just find that out...I know I'll be okay.  Call it a sixth sense; it never failed me when I was in SOLDIER.

          Tifa glances down at me, then back at Cloud.  I had grabbed her wrist again.  Cloud's holding the hilt of his sword – it isn't the Buster Sword that I had, it looks a lot deadlier – and is watching me uncertainly.

         Chill, I want to say.  I don't want to hurt her.  I don't want to hurt her at all.  If I could take this hood off, would you recognize me?

          13.  When I got it, everybody joked it was unlucky.  I boasted that I'd be the one to make it lucky, and I had.  I was one of the best.  A First-Class SOLDIER.

          I wish I could make myself take off this annoying black cloak.  Why am I wearing it anyway?

          "I...don't know, Cloud."  Tifa's still watching me, unsure.  Cloud's eyes harden.  He doesn't trust me.  

          No, don't do that buddy.  C'mon.  We're old friends, aren't we?  Don't do that.

          "Let's go, Tifa.  Cid's waiting, and you know how impatient he gets."  No!  I gave my life for you, and you won't even let me find out who I am?

          That's right.  I died after I dragged him out of Nibelheim.  Some SOLDIERS came after us for some reason, and I got riddled with bullet holes trying to defend you.  You, sick and helpless on the ground.  You were one of my best friends, Cloud.  But I guess I can't blame you; I wouldn't trust my girl with some black cloaked weirdo either.

          Still...I'm so close...please.  I'm in hell.  You try living when you can't even control your own movements, your own words, just being pulled along like some piece of extra baggage.

          Please.

          I should know I'm no telepath.  Tifa nods resignedly, and gently pries my hand off of her wrist.  I can't do anything but watch them walk out the door.

          But before I can call it quits and sink back into nothing, the door opens, and Tifa peeks in.  She walks past me but out of my reach, giving me an apologetic look, heading for a picture frame facedown on the table next to me.  Swiftly, she picks the frame up and pulls the picture out, hiding it in her little bag as she jogs out the door.   But not before I can see it.

          Her a few years ago, Sephiroth, and...me.

          Zack.

          That's right.

          That's who I am.

          I can feel my body collapsing.  I'm Zack.  I'm dying all over again, without blood, without bullets this time.

          I couldn't be happier.

AN: Hmm...after reading Pip Malloy's work and Aes Sedai's (both great authors), I felt like writing something non-happy, and this popped into my head.  Well, please review!


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